


#34 - In Too Deep

by angelsandbrowncoats



Series: Eurovision 2017 Fanfic Challenge [10]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, i haven't done much with either of these two in years, probably weak characterization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-30 02:20:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10866999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsandbrowncoats/pseuds/angelsandbrowncoats
Summary: Eomer's company is attacked on the way back to Edoras, only to be saved by a Gondorian princess. Eomer is not happy.





	#34 - In Too Deep

**Author's Note:**

> No I didn't use the accents. Sorry. I didn't even double check my spellings. I was in a hurry. (I had to write 43 fics in 2 weeks, okay?)

He was king now. He had most certainly not prepared for this outcome. Theoden ought to have had at least another couple of decades in his rule, and Theodred had been training his entire life for the crown. For both of them to have died in so short a time... Eomer wanted to grieve, but he couldn't, not when the responsibilities of his entire country had fallen upon his shoulders. He could grieve later, after the reconstruction of Rohan. From the havoc wreaked at the hands of Saruman to the all-out war of the past months, there was plenty of work that needed doing.

Currently, Eomer's camp was crossing the border from Gondor into Rohan. He had remained long enough for Aragorn's crowning, but he'd left shortly thereafter. His intention was to personally visit as many villages along the way to Edoras, bringing medicine for the wounded, food for everyone, and having his warriors assist in rebuilding homes and farms. He hoped that between the actual effort and the interactions, he could raise morale and muster support for his rule. He was well enough liked among warriors, but he needed to prove to the people that he could look out for them and their interests.

"We'll stop here for the night," he called out to his men, "Tomorrow we'll reach the first village. Some of you were there when we chased off the uruks, and you can recall the fire damage these people have suffered. We will be using some of King Elessar's gifts to replenish their granary and aide in the repairs of their homes. Get some rest and set a guard - there may still be small bands of raiders prowling the night."

As if summoned by his words, an arrow struck the shoulder of one of his men. Partway through putting up their tents, the men were caught partially unaware. In the moments where they scrambled to draw their weapons and get into formation, a group of orcs swarmed the camp. Eomer had a sword in his hand before he knew what he was doing, fighting back on instinct alone.

His heart skipped a beat when his sword embedded in the armor of the orc he'd just stabbed, yanking itself out of his hand as the creature fell. He tried to retrieve it, only to find another sword pressed against his throat. The orc holding it appeared to have some sense of strategy and rank, as he croaked, "Stand down, _Rohirrim_ , or see your King dead."

The Rohirrim froze, unsure of what to do. After Eomer, who was next in line? They couldn't afford to lose two kings so quickly.

"Now- "

Whatever the orc had been about to say, he never got the chance. An arrow buried itself deep in his skull, and he toppled backwards, blade falling from his hands. Eomer seized it, searching for the archer who had risked a shot. None of his archers had even armed themselves yet.

"And here I thought you were a renowned warrior," a clear, high voice rang out, accompanied by the familiar sound of hoof beats. A white horse, easily identifiable as one of Gondor, galloped into view, carrying one of the most beautiful women Eomer had ever seen. Her beauty did not blind him to the insult in her comment, however.

He growled, ordering his men to make short work of the remaining orcs, none of whom seemed as prepared. The site was cleared in moments and Eomer approached the rider.

"And who might you be, to speak to a king so?"

"Princess Lothiriel," she replied lightly, sliding off the horse's back and holding out her hand as if he should kiss it. He considered rejecting her out of spite, but settled for a condescending look as he acquiesced.

"And what is my lady doing so far from her city?"

"Looking for you. King Elessar is not the only one grateful for the services of Rohan at Pelennor. My father, Prince Imrahil, sent me to lead a company of healers to your party, since it is your intention to oversee the reparations of Rohan. He hopes our services may strengthen the friendship of our nations."

Eomer snorted, "I appreciate the sentiment, but a group of women would only be a liability. I don't have enough men to protect you all."

"If I recall, you would have even less men right now if it weren't for me. And wasn't it your sister who defeated the Witch King and saved the day at Pelennor?"

"Eowyn is a woman of the Mark, and she has earned the title of shield maiden, against my better judgement. You and your company, on the other hand, are healers, not to mention the fact that you're a Gondorian princess. You couldn't handle life on the road. I can tell that from your outfit alone," he gestured at the deep blue silks of her dress.

"Why don't you let me worry about what I can and cannot do," Lothiriel didn't phrase it as a question, "And if you can't spare the men for our guard, then don't. We'll be fine."

Eomer frowned. Did the woman not hear _anything_ he'd said?

She brushed past him, surveying the camp, "I think we'll set up on the East side," she said almost to herself. She raised a small instrument to her lips, blowing a series of short, musical whistles. In minutes, another four horses appeared, dragging a small caravan. It was flanked by six more horses, each with a single rider. All six were women dressed in blue and white and all six were armed with hunting bows.

"I didn't realize Gondor condoned women fighters," Eomer spoke flatly.

"Oh, not really. I tricked my brothers into teaching me, and then I taught all my ladies in waiting. My father only found out a year or so ago, and it wasn't like he could fire them for being too skilled. It is customary, however, for the royal women of Gondor to be proficient in the art of healing. That skill is legitimate."

It was then that Eomer realized he may be in over his head. Years of knowing Eowyn made him wary of determined women. As Lothiriel began ordering the set up of the healers' tent, he caught himself staring. How could someone so delicate hold that much fire and steel? If he wasn't careful, he was going to fall and fall hard for her. And that was not what he needed right now.


End file.
